Goodbyes are sad

This morning, I woke up to the sound of Aaron's cries.  He was standing next to my bed at 8:23 crying.  In between his wails, I heard his anguished words that Grandma Mary and Pa Lynn were gone.  He was heartbroken. 

He knew that they'd be leaving this morning before he woke up, but knowing it and fully comprehending what it means are two totally different things, especially for a four-year-old.  He gladly gives us his bedroom when Grandma Mary & Pa Lynn come to visit since he has a queen bed.  So, when he tiptoed through the hall this morning, he saw the open bedroom door, the empty bed and missing suitcases and lost it.  No more Grandma Mary reading with him.  No more Pa Lynn helping him with his Buzz Lightyear puzzle.  No more riding in Pa Lynn's car by himself and getting BOTH grandparents undivided attention.  No more playing Angry Birds on Pa Lynn's phone.  No more scrolling through pictures of his Walmer cousins on Grandma's phone.  They were gone.  And we don't have a plan of exactly when we will see them again to ease the pain.

I remember years ago before I was a mom myself that my mom would often get teary-eyed and fight back the tears when we would return to college over Christmas break.  At the time, I was young.  I was excited to be out on my own.  It wasn't that I didn't have a great relationship with my parents (I did), but I was excited to venture into the world and make it my own.  I was excited to be living in Chicago (one of my dreams).  After getting married, I would get sad to say goodbye to my parents, but I still had so much of life ahead of me, it was a more fleeting thought.

Since having children, my perspective has changed.  I have a whole knew appreciation for my mom and dad.  I'm always sad to see our visits end and I will often tear up and fight back tears myself (or just let them flow).  I love that my boys have such strong relationships with my parents, but it comes at a cost.  My parents spend a lot of time, energy and money traveling to see us (they're a 10-12 hour drive away).  I'm not their only child.  I'm only one of four of their children.  My boys are just four of their ten grandchildren.  Its a blessing to have this family but its bittersweet since we're spread out across the country.  They have children in four states: Minnesota, Illinois, Delaware and Houston.  Its complicated to see each other.  It requires requesting time off at work, traveling and coordinating schedules.  I watch them and think that will be me in twenty years splitting my time among my four grown children.  I wonder if I will have the energy to do it as well as they do. 

Living far apart is hard.  There is no hopping in the car for an impromptu visit.  There is no spontaneous Starbucks run with my mom.  There is no meeting up with my dad on his work lunch break.  There is no dropping the kids off with them for two hours while we go to dinner alone.  Some days its just plain sad.  It  never matters  how long the visit is, as soon as its over, you're looking forward to the next one. 

In addition to my own feelings about the separation, my heart is walking around in four pieces (loud, crazy ones known as James, Andrew, Aaron and Caleb) that are ALWAYS sad to see Grandma & Pa Lynn go.  It breaks my heart to see the boys cry over them leaving.  

This year was also the first year that I didn't spend any time over the Thanksgiving or Christmas holidays with my little sister.  The first time in her 25 years of life.  When it was time at our church service to sing Silent Night and tell the people you were sitting with that you loved them, I missed her.  She's married now with a baby boy of her own.  That's life.  Knowing that's how it is doesn't make it easier.

The silver lining of living far away from my parents and siblings is that I don't take them for granted.  I really do cherish the times we have together.  We make sure we take lots of pictures.  We stay up late talking.  We are intentional about making memories together.  When my parents leave at 5:25 am (which in my book is still nighttime since I'm NOT a morning person), you get out of bed to give them one last hug goodbye and watch their car pull out of the driveway.  And when your four year old climbs into your bed in the morning heartbroken about Grandma & Grandpa being gone, you hold him until the crying subsides and he's grieved the loss.  And lastly, after you've gotten up and had your coffee for the day, you start planning the logistics of the next visit.